“Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose – a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.”-Mary Shelley
I’m excited to read any piece of literature, but something magical happened when I first laid my hands on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Crime and Punishment, The Scarlet Letter, and The Great Gatsby are in a very special category for me, and I’m proud to say Frankenstein will be joining them!
I love books that make you question every single detail down to the last period. Did Raskolnikov really murder the pawnbroker? Is Hester Prynne a heroine? Why will Gatsby never truly achieve his dream?
What makes someone human? Why is the creation considered a monster? Aren’t Frankenstein and his monster the same person? Why is knowledge so deadly? Is it better to…
I should really stop before the rest of this post is full of unanswerable questions about society and the purpose of life. In short, texts like Frankenstein are why literature is so important. In life, we become engrossed in our day-to-day routine, goals, and aspirations that we fail, like Victor Frankenstein, to think long-term. Is the outcome of our goal to prove something to others rather than for ourselves? In my opinion, the outcome of the goal isn’t as important as the process. If Victor would have stopped during his creation of the monster (like he does in the latter when creating his companion), maybe things would have been different. But that is the beauty of literature, like history, we learn from others, and we must take a moment to thank Robert Walton for writing it all done for us.